Mafia's Love✔️

24

It’s been a few days since my recovery, and I’ve been confined to this room, unable to muster the strength to take a step outside. The walls seem to be closing in on me, and the darkness outside feels like a constant reminder of my isolation. My mind is a maelstrom of thoughts and doubts, with one question echoing incessantly: “Am I doing the right thing? Am I sacrificing my own well-being to salvage a situation that is irreparable?”

Initially, I thought seeking revenge was the answer. I wanted to make those who wronged me pay for their sins. But now, as I lie here in this cold, dark room, I realize that revenge is a hollow pursuit. It’s a never-ending cycle of pain and hurt, with no resolution in sight. And I’m tired of hurting. I’m tired of being alone. I’m tired of feeling like I’m drowning in a sea of despair.

But the weight of my isolation is crushing me. I have no one to turn to, no hand to hold, no support system to lean on. My loved ones are gone, taken from me by the very people I’m seeking revenge against. The thought of it is a constant reminder that I’m struggling to silence the voice of my conscience. “It’s a voice that whispers to me in the dead of night, telling me that I’m failing to deliver justice to those who were taken from me.”

I’ve come to realize that kindness is a luxury I can no longer afford. In this unforgiving world, only those who are privileged and worry-free can indulge in kindness. They can afford to be compassionate, to empathize with others

As I finally emerged from the confines of my room, a sense of determination washed over me like a tidal wave, crashing against the shores of my resolve. The urge to confront Jungkook burned within me, a fire that had been smoldering for far too long. His betrayal still lingered in my mind, a festering wound that refused to heal. The memory of his bullet piercing my skin was a constant reminder of his deceit, a painful jab that never failed to evoke a visceral response.

My gaze wandered, and my eyes landed on Jung Hoseok, his chiseled features still as captivating as ever. Regret washed over me, remembering the chance I had let slip away, like sand between my fingers. Jimin’s advice, his warnings, had fallen on deaf ears, and now I was left to face the consequences of my own folly.

I quickened my pace, my heart pounding in my chest like a drumbeat in a primal ritual. The stairs loomed ahead, a daunting obstacle that seemed to stretch on forever. And as I descended, my legs suddenly betrayed me, giving way like a house of cards in a hurricane. I felt myself falling, my body surrendering to gravity’s pull, helpless to stop the inevitable.

But before I could hit the ground, a strong arm encircled my waist, pulling me close to a chest that seemed as solid as steel. Jung Hoseok’s eyes locked onto mine, concern etched on his face like a masterpiece of Renaissance art. “Are you okay?” He asked, his voice low and husky, a gentle breeze on a summer’s day that sent shivers down my spine.

“I don’t think I am.” My eyes fluttered closed, and I felt myself being lifted, cradled in his arms like a fragile doll. His grip tightened, his hold on me possessive, as if he would never let me go.

“Let me assist you back to your room.” He offered, his voice laced with concern.

But I refused, holding onto him tighter. “Please, don’t send me back. I want to feel some fresh air. I’ve been trapped in there for days.” I pleaded, my eyes locked onto his.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Namjoon staring at us, a frown etched on his face. I knew he was displeased, but I didn’t care. I was putting on a show, and I was determined to see it through.

Just as I was about to follow Jung Hoseok, my expression changed. Jeon Jungkook appeared at the top of the hallway, his eyes fixed on me with a mixture of surprise and anger. Without hesitation, I snatched the gun from the holster at Hoseok’s side and pointed it at Jungkook.